


Three Times Derek Hale Wanted to Punch Someone, and One Time He Did

by Beautyofgrey



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautyofgrey/pseuds/Beautyofgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There have been plenty of times Derek Hale has wanted to punch people. This is a catalog of three times he held back, and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Derek Hale Wanted to Punch Someone, and One Time He Did

1  
"We cut her in half...While she was still alive." Kate leaned close to Derek's ear as she said the last word, and he jerked his head away. He felt his stomach curling into knots. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to believe she wasn't telling the truth. Even after all these years, he still hoped, just a little that she was better than that.

"Listen to my heart, Derek." she continued, "We cut your sister... in half... while she was still alive. And we left her there. As bait. For you. See? No heart tics. Nothing but just the beating of the cold, hard truth. The alpha killed her, Derek. You know it's true. You found the tooth marks on her body. Now. Why don't you tell me his name, and we'll all go home happy."

Derek's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he ground his teeth together. But he remained silent. But Kate went on, undeterred, as always.

"Unless." she purred, "You don't know his name either..." She smiled a malicious smile, perfect blood-red lips quirking up and Derek remembered with a sinking sickness in the pit of his gut how he had once loved her. She had been much prettier then, face not so twisted by hate. He raised his closed fist, fully intending to hit her, to punch that look of smug satisfaction off her face. But then she raised her gun.

"Guess who just became useless!"

Bullets ricocheted around Derek, barely inches from him as the shift happened, as he dropped to all fours and tore out of his own house like a stray dog.

 

2  
She came running up the steps to the front door, tears streaking her little face, one pigtail minus its ribbon unraveling as she ran. Derek slammed open the door and pulled her into his arms, as usual surprised by the strength of her very very tight hug.

"Kathleen said my hair's ugly." she sobbed into her older brother's chest, hands grasping tight to the back of his shirt, "I thought she was my friend, but she threw mud on Pickles." She loosened one hand to dig into her pocket and pull out her battered plush puppy. There was clumps of mud hanging in his fur.

"And then," Laura continued, with a sniffle, "Then she said that my family is weird and that her mom says she can't play with me anymore."

Derek felt his temper rising. Who was this little punk to do this to his sister? He wanted to march right over to Kathleen's house right that instant and punch her mother in the face... But punching someone in the face is really hard to do when you have a five-year-old clinging to your shirt, and he was only twelve. He couldn't go around punching adults. But that didn't stop him from wanting to.

Instead, he carried Laura into the living room and flopped onto the big old rocking chair that had been his grandma's and began to rock slowly back and forth, back and forth, till her tears slowed to sniffles and hiccups and then quiet.

"Kathleen's not worth your time." he said finally, "But I think you should tell mom and dad about this. And in the mean time, we can see if we can get the mud out of Pickles's fur. How about that?"

Laura's face brightened a little. "Maybe." she whispered, "He does need a bath."

3  
Derek sniffed, his nose close to the ground. the scent was old, ilusive, but he ran on, his tail flicked over his back, terror driving him. He smelled her scent. And he smelled blood. Once again, he raised his head, but the howl did not come. If she was out there, if there was even one chance, half a chance, a quarter of a chance that she was still alive, then he'd have to find her. All he could afford himself was a low growl as he darted forward.

The scent was getting stronger. He tore through the trees, through a wall of thorns that tore at his coat and embedded into his fur. The scent was so strong here. He pushed on, shoving through the thorns, and then he stopped, the sight before him completely undoing him.

Peering up at him out of the thorns was a face, her face, eyes wide and staring, mouth open a little. There was no color to her skin, and he could tell without looking beyond that that she was dead.

His head lowered, nudging at her cold, stiff body, at the tangled hair matted with thorns. He felt the howl burning at the back of his throat but he clamped his teeth, refusing to howl. He couldn't draw attention to this. So, he forced himself to turn human, forced the shift, knelt and started to lift her from the thorns... And instantly had to turn his head and heave, losing the contents of his stomach right there. His sister's body had been mutilated, chopped in half at the waist, and there were toothmarks on her body. He lifted her, cradling her gently in his arms, feeling the tears burn at the back of his eyes. He knew. He had to bury her. It was a ways back to his house. As the grief and anger mingled inside him, he knew. He would find whomever had done this to her. He would find them, and he would kill them. And he would punch anyone in the face who tried to stop him.

And a little later that night he kissed her cheek as he lowered her into the ground, and whispered, "I'll make this right."

 

4  
He knew he was dying. He could feel the heat radiating out from the wound, burning through his body, and McCall's idiot friend was just sitting there, rambling about how he should try not to bleed out on the seats. Derek felt a snarl rising. If he could avoid bleeding, didn't the dumb-ass think he would?

"Start the car." he ground out between gritted teeth, around the sharp knives of pain lancing through his body.

"You know what? I don't think you're in any position to be barking orders the way you look!" Stiles sassed back, "You look like death. You know what? I could drag your werewolf ass out on the side of the road and leave you there to..."

Stiles never finished the sentence. Derek's good hand connected hard with the side of the teenager's head with a resounding crack. For a moment, Stiles just stared.

"Start the car." Derek growled, "Or I will rip your throat out. With my teeth."


End file.
